


Couples Retreat

by Tilltheendwilliwrite



Series: New Year's 2018/19 [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hate to Love, New Year's Eve, New Years, Romantic Fluff, Shameless Smut, тэг заменён на Don't copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 20:44:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17251106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilltheendwilliwrite/pseuds/Tilltheendwilliwrite
Summary: anonymous  asked:This probably isn't all that original, but I wanted to submit something for the Christmas/ New Year's Drabble thingy because I felt sorry for a certain someone not having as much attention as most others. So, my suggestion, for either day, is for Clint and the Reader, who absolutely can't stand each other (or think they can't) stuck on a mission by themselves because the others' cover was blown, so they have to make like a happy holidaying couple for a while week. Bonus points for smut XD





	Couples Retreat

**Author's Note:**

> I'm claiming those bonus points! Lol

 

* * *

“Smile, you bastard, or I’ll kick you beneath the table,” you said through tightly clenched teeth at Clint once the waiter had poured the wine and left. The resort was festively decorated with colourful lights and Christmas trees, looking only slightly out of place against the backdrop of beach and sea.

“I don’t want to, _sweety_ ,” he growled.

You slammed your shoe into his shin. “Suck it up, Barton! I don’t want to do this with you either, but you know why it’s down to us. If you fuck this mission up, I’ll let _you_ explain it to the Captain!”

He grunted but pasted on a smile. “Fucking couples retreat.”

“Damn right.” You gulped a mouthful of surprisingly good wine and focused on the entertainment of the live band.

The mission had been simple. You and Bucky were meant to pose as a couple along with Nat and Clint, to infiltrate a resort along the coast where it was said Hydra had a base they were using to run weapons. The Resort was high end, fancy, and only for couples, but when Sam had done a fly over with Red Wing, it had become clear neither Natasha nor Bucky would be going in. Nat and Bucky were too well known to just walk in with their faces on display and had been planning on wearing Halos, but the resorts had scanners set up to disrupt such things. Neither their faces nor Bucky’s arm would pass such tests. Instead, you and Clint had been swapped out as the last minute couple and sent in alone.

There was only one problem. You and Clint couldn’t stand each other.

Somehow you made it through dinner, barely civil to each other, causing the waiter to shoot you a sad, understanding smile. Apparently, you weren’t the first “fighting” couple to come to the Resort. You returned to the suite where you’d already decided Clint would ride the couch. You’d be there four days, your final night coming on New Year’s Eve.

Between now and then, you’d be “required” to participate in couples things. Dance classes. Yoga. Something called “Sensual Awakening.” You had no idea what that was, but you weren’t looking forward to it. On top of all that, and having to appear as a couple, you needed to do the surveillance of four people.

As soon as you returned to your room, you drew the small wand that looked like lipstick from your purse and clicked the tube twice. It flashed once and turned green.

“We’re clear.” No one had been in to bug the room while you were out. So far it seemed your cover was holding.

Clint grunted and threw his suitcase up on the bed. Clothes flew from within as he dumped them out, opening the false bottom where the compact crossbow was stored. His usual bow would have been too conspicuous, but the smaller, discreet crossbow was a weapon he could easily tuck in a pocket, and the bolts would strap to his arm.

You followed suit, though you unpacked into drawers and hung stuff in the closet before retrieving the guns from the bottom of yours.

“You think maybe that’s overkill?” he grumbled when you set all five weapons on the bed.

“Can you ever have too many arrows?”

He grunted but scooped his things up and threw them in the drawers next to yours.

“Really?” You shot him a disdainful glare.

He paused before shutting the drawer. “What?”

“You honestly think any self-respecting wife would let you get away with wrinkling everything you own like that?”

He arched a brow and perched on the edge of the bed. “Then maybe my wife should be a good little wifey and fold and put my stuff away.”

You smiled sweetly and loaded the chamber of your Glock. “And maybe I could shove this up your ass and unload it.”

“Is that any way to speak to the man of the house?”

“I don’t see a man.”

He pouted but put his clothes away neatly.

After you’d checked and loaded all your weapons and secreted them around the room in places the cleaning staff wouldn’t stumble upon, you collected your sleepwear from a drawer and headed into the bathroom. By the time you returned, Clint was stretched out on the couch. Still, he leered as you went by.

“You were planning on wearin’ that for Barnes? You’d give the old man a heart attack.”

You rolled your eyes and flipped him the bird. There was nothing wrong with your satin shorts and matching tank top. “For your information, Bucky and I have done this more than once. We’re perfectly capable of keeping things platonic because we’re _friends_ and teammates. He even shares my bed.”

“Ooh!”

“Shut it you immature creep.”

“Kiss my pink ass.”

You shut off the light and went to bed, determined to ignore him.

***

“How in the hell did we get into this?” Clint grumbled from his position beside you. He was bent over stretching his hamstrings in downward facing dog, you mirroring him on his left during your morning yoga class.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining. You’re flexible enough to make this look easy. My whole ass hurts.” He chuckled softly, but it was without malice as he stood up and shifted around behind you. “What are you up too?”

“Helping you out like a good husband.” His hands landed on your hips, thumbs pressing into your low back. His thigh snugged up between yours and made you squeak when he leaned into your ass. “Relax. It’s not what you think.”

You were supposed to be a couple, one who’d done a heck of a lot more than get cozy in a couples yoga class and forced yourself to relax into his manipulating hands. The gentle press and release of his fingers and rocking of his hands had your hips relaxing and your spine softening so you lowered into a deeper pose.

“Oh… wow…” you moaned and made him chuckle.

“Well, Mr. Martin,” the perky blonde instructor smiled as she walked up next to you. “You’re no beginner.”

“I was a bit of an acrobat when I was younger.”

She giggled, and from your position, you could just make out her hand stroking down Clint’s arm. You rolled your eyes at his flirting and shifted slightly, a bad idea when you found yourself riding his thigh. His hands flexed, indicating he’d noticed, then he was shifting, his hand stroking down your thigh before catching at your knee and drawing your leg up to rest on his shoulder.

“How’s that for you… babe?” His hand passed over your ass.

“Great, honey.” You stuck your toe in his ear. “Oops. Sorry about that.”

“Well, you two seem to be in good hands,” the perky blonde said and wandered off.

“I should dump you on your head,” Clint hissed.

“Stop flirting in front of your wife!” you hissed in return.

He let your leg down and returned to his mat, grumbling beneath his breath as he laid down on his back to work through a series of bridge poses. It was stupid how hot his flexibility was. You’d always thought him a good looking guy; he was just a sarcastic, wise cracking asshole. But when he lifted his pelvis and rocked back on his shoulders, you had a heartstopping moment of _hnnnng_.

“Mr. Martin! You shouldn’t do that without a spotter,” Perky blonde said, flouncing over to place her hands on Clint’s hips.

“I think I can spot my own husband, thank you very much,” you snarled as you stood and shooed her hands away to replace them with yours.

“Sure you can!” Perky perked as she flounced away. “Now, just keep him from twisting, and it will be all good!”

“Good God,” you muttered. “Rainbows are about to shoot out her ass.”

Clint snorted so hard his body collapsed, taking you down with him, so you landed on his chest with your hands pinned beneath him, giggling madly.

“Rainbows?” he snickered.  

“If her ponytail were any tighter she’d have to squint.”

Clint snorted and tried to sit up. “You want to get off me?”

“You need to lift your ass first.” The entire thing was so comical you burst into fresh giggles, ones Clint echoed, even as the other partners in the class shot you glares.

***

After lunch, you headed out to walk along the beach, holding hands as you scanned the coastline looking for anything out of the ordinary. There were towering cliffs to either end of the long, white sand beach that would make excellent places to hide weapons if they had any type of cave systems. The ones farthest from the resort would be the ideal place, and the two of you strolled that direction.

Every so often Clint would stop and pull you into his arms, and you’d laugh as he pretended to nibble or kiss your neck while whispering about security in the trees. It was odd how much there was — way more than what should be in a resort this size.

You played in the water when he let you go, dragging him into the surf to skip amongst the waves. There were moments when you forgot how annoying you found him. When he was sweet and fun, and charming. 

He led you laughing into the trees when the brush separated you from the cliff. Clint pressed his finger to his lips and leaned close to your ear. “Three guards are patrolling, but if we’re quiet, we can get closer and have a look at what they’re protecting.”

“Lead the way,” you whispered, thankful you’d worn a dress that blended well with the foliage.

Off the path and through the palms, you snuck closer to the wall of rock a step behind Clint. He froze twice, dragging you down into the brush with him. Hidden by palm leaves, you watched the guards stroll by. They were packing automatic rifles, much bigger weapons than those who worked closer to the resort.

Once they passed, you were up and following him again, crouching down at the edge of a clearing that faced two more guards standing at attention beside a metal door set into the cliff face.

“Well that looks suspicious,” you whispered even as Clint drew a pen from his pocket that had a camera in it and snapped off a few pictures. “Bio scanners. Cameras. Lasers. Reinforced steel door.”

“Yeah, nothing hinky here,” Clint chuckled. “C’mon. We’ll come back tonight and see what they’re up to.”

You turned away and began creeping through the brush again. You were nearly out when Clint suddenly grabbed you and backed you into a palm tree. His eyes warned you to go along with what came next, and you didn’t hesitate when his mouth came down, frantic on yours.

Heat exploded through your stomach, sank low and burned like an inferno. You threw your arms around his neck and one leg up over his hip. A hot hand clamped to your ass as he ground his thigh into your core.

“Hey!”

The shout had Clint pulling his head back to glare at the man coming toward you. “What? I’m kissing my girl here.”

“You can’t be here. This area is off limits.”

“We’re sorry. We didn’t know.” You shifted until you semi hung from Clint’s neck. “C’mon, baby. Let’s go back to our suite. You can finish what you started here.”

“You’re so bad, darlin’,” Clint chuckled, burying his face in your throat with a growl.

You squealed and laughed and scurried out of the way, pretending the man with the gun didn’t bother you in the least. Clint slapped your ass and chased you out of the trees onto the beach where he scooped you up and spun you in a circle.

Then he stumbled and dumped you both in the sand, but you were laughing too hard to care. When his mouth came down on yours, you wrapped your arms around him and gave yourself over, succumbing to the seductive siren call of pleasure humming through your veins.

When Clint finally lifted his head and allowed you to breathe, you stared up into his green eyes. 

“He’s moved on,” Clint murmured.

Ice water dumped on you would have been less surprising. “Oh. Good.” You shoved him off and got to your feet, pasting on a smile as you brushed sand from your legs.

“Y/N?”

You shook out your skirt. “What?”

“Are you… alright?”

You shot him a look and shrugged. “Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” He’d only kissed you breathless, made your entire body light up, and been more fun today than you’d ever had with him. 

You didn’t even like him, so why did you feel… snubbed?

***

Under the cover of darkness, you slipped through the brush and froze at the edge of the clearing. It was a lot easier to see the laser sensors and assorted security measure in place now. Even the space before the door was lit up with criss cross beams. Whatever was in there, they really didn’t want you getting a look at.

While Clint launched small, nearly invisible recording and listening devices for the others to monitor the comings and goings of those around the door, you snuck through the shadows toward the cliff face and the sound of breaking surf. There had to be another way into the area — a way for them to bring in the weapons unseen. At the edge of the beach, you hesitated and touched the com in your ear. “Clint. I’m going in.”

Two sharp taps indicated he heard and agreed, but couldn’t speak.

You cast a last glance around, then darted across the open expanse of sand to plow into the water off the rocks. This was your specialty and why you’d been included in this holiday mission. Like a fish you cut through the water, breathing without difficulty beneath it. Dual sets of lungs made staying underwater for prolonged periods relatively easy, and once you were in the water, it was like it became an extension of you. The waves didn’t rock you unless you wanted them too, and when you wished to swim with the speed of a dolphin, you could.

This time, you chose a more sedate pace around the rock outcropping. Nothing appeared amiss until you made the far side and the giant gaping maw of a hole appeared. You tapped your earpiece three times, indicating you’d found something and were checking it out, but no answer came back, and you froze. Where was Clint?

“Hey, fellas,” his voice came clearly through your com. They were waterproof, allowing you the ability to hear, but you couldn't speak to him, requiring the team to work out a simple code system of taps.

“What are you doing on the beach at night?”

 _Shit_! Someone had found him. You quickly ditched the wetsuit you’d worn to cover your entrance into the water and skulking around the forest, stuffing it down between the rocks as you listened to Clint covering his ass.

“My wife likes to swim at night. I’m just waiting for her to come back.”

There was a moment of silence as the men must have turned to look out at the water. “We see no one.”

“She’ll be back soon. It gets her hot, night swimming. I think it’s the risk involved.”

You rolled your eyes but sped along the beach, popping up once to figure out where he was, then made your way out of the water.

“There she is now.” He turned and smirked at you.

As the asshole had set you up to play the sex kitten, you’d play the damn sex kitten. Striding slowly through the water, happy you’d worn the white bikini that was damn near see through and glowed beneath the streams of moonlight, you shook your hair back and brushed the water from your face. Then ran your hands down your body as you walked up on the sand.

“Clive, baby. You giving these,” you smiled seductively, “nice men a hard time?”

Clint held out his hand and a towel he must have nabbed from somewhere. “They were just waiting with me. Making sure my wife got back from her swim in one piece.” He draped the towel around your waist and dragged you in close. His dark clothing had also been ditched, leaving him in shorts and button down shirt.

“How nice of them,” you breathed against his mouth.

“Ma’am, night swimming isn’t permitted.”

You blinked at the man staring at your ass and pouted. “It’s not? Oh, dear.”

“S’okay, baby. I’m sure you're sufficiently _worked up_ for the night.”

The look you shot Clint said you’d get him for it later, but for the moment you clenched a fistful of his hair, dragged his head down, and flicked your tongue over his lips. “Oh, baby. So, so ready. You’d better bring your A game.”

The second guard gave an audible gulp while the first whimpered and you shot them a smile. “Excuse us, fellas.” You stepped out of Clint’s arms, held the towel together between your breasts and made sure your ass twitched as you headed for the hotel.

When Clint whispered, “Fuck me!” you made sure he couldn’t see you smile.

Payback was a bitch, but you loved her.

***

You were laying in bed staring up at the ceiling. After returning to your room, you’d run through what you’d seen, and sent off the intel to the others. You needed to get into that cave, but Steve had said no. You and Clint were to spend the next two days being all lovey-dovey couple, and not draw attention to yourselves while keeping your eyes open for anything odd.

“I don’t like it,” you muttered, knowing Clint wasn’t sleeping either.

“Me either, but Cap’s orders stand.”

“Think you can keep pretending to like me for two more days?”

“I do like you.” You snorted in derision. “I do!”

“Please. You had no desire to be here with me.”

“Fine, you weren’t my _first_ choice in partner, but that was before. This has been oddly… fun.”

You smirked at the ceiling. “The yoga was interesting. I didn’t know you were quite so bendy.”

He chuckled softly. “Confession?” Clint pushed up to look at you over the back of the sofa, and you sat up on your elbows. “I haven’t needed a spotter for a back bend since I was ten. If I wanted to, I could roll myself in a circle.”

“I call bullshit. There’s no way.”

Clint lept the back of the sofa, bent over backward, and landed on his hands. When he reached further around and grasped his ankles, you gasped.

“Told ya,” he snickered.

“Good God!” You leaned forward. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

He stood up and crossed his arms. “It’s more a really intense stretch.”

“I can barely touch my toes, and you can touch yours the wrong way around!” That seemed highly unfair.

“You’ve just gotta loosen the muscles along your spine.” He motioned for you to turn around and came and sat behind you.

When his thumbs dug in, you groaned in bliss and rested your head on your knees. “Where have you been all my life?”

“Right here,” he chuckled.

The silence stretched, broken only by quiet whimpers and moans as he dug his thumbs in along your spine.

“You know,” he murmured a few minutes later. “I don’t know why we don’t get along.”

You stiffened and shot him a look over your shoulder. “You don’t remember what you said?”

“Honestly? I say a lot, Y/N. I don’t always have control over my mouth.”

You pulled away from him but didn’t turn around. “When I was first recruited, you told Tasha I would never amount to anything. That I was a wasted opportunity, and they should be recruiting muscle, not Fish Girl.” He didn’t say anything, didn’t cry innocent or dispute it. “I made it my mission to prove you wrong. To be an asset both in water and on land. I’ve had _hundreds_ of comments thrown at me, some in person, some behind my back, but that was the _worst_ thing I’ve ever heard and to have it come from an actual Avenger? Yeah, it stung.”

The bed shifted as he scooted closer and then his arms wrapped around you. “I am… so sorry. I have no excuse for what I said, but I’ve an explanation if you’ll hear it?” You nodded your agreement. “You came to us after we’d suffered a couple of pretty nasty beatings. Thor had gone home, the Hulk was AWOL. Steve had gotten hurt and Tony was in rough shape. Even Nat had taken a nasty blow that put her out of commision for more than a few days. I was angry, frustrated, and… scared. All of that boiled over when I found out about you. I’d been hoping for a heavy hitter, someone with impressive firepower or strength to fill the hole in our team. Instead we got you. Any other time I would have met you with open arms, but at that point… I was just lost.”

You sighed and relaxed into him. “I get it. Still stings.”

“You have to know how incredible you are. You’ve been a huge asset to the team. Hell, I get a little jealous with how much everyone wants to work with you.”

“Well, I am that good.” You burst into giggles when he fell over onto the bed with you and attacked your ribs. “I give! I give!”

“So…” He peered down at you, moonlight casting his face in shadows. “Friends?”

“Only if you tell me why you’re so grumpy about being here with me.”

He shrugged, but rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. “We’ve never gotten along. I know that’s my fault now, but I just kind of thought you were a… bitch.”

“Clint!” You swatted his chest.

“You were! All cold and snappy. It wasn’t until today that I saw the real you. She’s fun and funny, and… I’ve had a really good time.”

“Me too.” You turned toward him. “You’re even more fun than Bucky.”

He turned toward you. “Do tell.”

You snickered and tugged up the sheets. “Well, he’s always more broody and possessive. Like I’m _his_ girl and lord help anyone who looks at me sideways. That’s not my scene.”

“What’s your scene?”

“I like being myself: fun, a little flirty. A tease though only in jest. Like tonight with the guards. You set me up, you shit, but you didn’t get all weirdly handsy when I flirted at them. Just let it play out.”

He yawned but smiled. “Oh, I could get handsy.”

You giggled and sighed. “I know. There’s a handprint on my ass to prove it.”

“S’a nice ass…” Clint murmured as he relaxed into sleep.

You watched him for a moment longer, the hurt you’d felt finally gone on the wings of forgiveness, and went to sleep beside him.

***

You woke to find yourself wrapped up in Clint’s arms, your head on his shoulder, and legs tangled together. It was nice but strange. He wasn’t as warm as Bucky, which was good in this climate, but it was weird because two days ago you couldn’t stand him. To wake up wrapped around him like an eel was… disconcerting.

Especially as you liked it, Clint was ridiculously comfortable.

“Hey.”

You looked up and smiled, warmth glowing in your cheeks. “Hey.”

He glanced down and arched a brow. “Well… this is awkward.”

“Why?” you smirked. “Because my knee is snugged up against your Johnson and your sporting morning wood?”

Clint snickered. “Well, that and I’ve got a handful of your ass.”

His fingers flexed and made your grunt. “Um… I hadn’t noticed.”

“Do you often wake up with a man’s hand on your booty?”

You pushed up on his chest and looked down at him. “Well, I did say Bucky got handsy.”

“So you guys never…?” He made kissy faces.

“Nope. We’ve pretended to be a couple enough times to know we couldn’t do it in reality. He’s a spiffy kisser, but there’s no heat there.”

“Yeah?” He sat up, and your breath hitched to find him so close to your face. “No chemistry?”

“None,” you murmured, your gaze locked on his mouth.

“No fire?” Clint asked, slowly coming closer. “No _spark_?”

Your fingers tingled when they connected with the flesh on his side. Flesh covered in dark lines of ink in the shape of a koi fish. “Not even a simmer. It’s like kissing my mother.”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Your mother, huh?”

“Yeah.” You looked up to find warm green eyes full of amusement and something more. “It’s why we can fake it so well. We never lose focus.”

Warm, calloused fingers skimmed beneath the hem of your satin top to gently caress across the flesh of your low back. It made you shiver and gasp a little breath.

“You don’t seem quite so unaffected now.”

“Clint.” You spread your fingers out over his ribs, feeling the quick beat of his heart against them. “Your heart’s beating really fast.”

“Is it?” he whispered, eyes locked with yours. “I hadn’t noticed.” His gaze drifted down to your lips and held there as you licked them. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“What?”

“Lick your lips like that. I’ll take it as an invitation.”

You opened your mouth to respond when the knock at the door interrupted.

Breakfast had arrived.

***

You spent the rest of the day hyper-aware of Clint. Every brush of his fingers, every whisper of his breath against your ear, every look he sent you that was full of appreciation. His eyes lingered. His hand sought yours at regular intervals. He found every excuse he could to press your bodies together.

By the time you were supposed to join the others for the dance class, your stomach was a tangled mass of nerves and desire. You’d signed up for the class because Bucky could dance better than most people could walk. It was a good way for him to seem involved in one thing while doing something else. The class was held on the terrace overlooking the cliff which housed the cave you assumed the weapons were stored in and gave a great view of the ocean around the area. If boats were going too or from it, you’d be able to see them from your vantage point.  

Clint, too, you discovered, could dance quite well, but concentrating on the cliff and sea were damn near impossible when he danced you past the rail. All you could focus on was the feel of his body moving with yours, the press of his pelvis, the beat of his heart. His hand was firm on your back, guiding you to move and flow impossibly graceful across the floor.

Then his mouth was on your ear, and you shivered even as his words registered. “Submarine.”

It startled you so badly, you missed a step and nearly fell, but he just guided you to the side where you could rest and tsked as he fussed over your “turned” ankle, holding you against him like you were precious while his hawk eyes took in the dark shadow of the ship disappearing beneath the rock.

“I need to get back in the water,” you whispered against his ear.

“Steve said to wait.”

“It can’t wait! That could be how they get the weapons in, or if that’s how they’re taking them out, the others need to know.”

He cupped your cheek. “Tonight’s the dinner cruise. We’ll find a way for you to get off the ship and have a look around.”

You wrapped your arms around him as if sharing a loving moment. “Okay.” As the instructor was heading toward you, you produced a pout. “And I was having so much fun dancing with you.”

“Is everything alright?”

You blinked at the middle-aged man. “I had a clumsy moment and twisted my ankle.”

Clint stroked your cheek and ran his thumb over your lip. “And you were doing so good too, babe.”

“I think we’ll just head back to our room,” you smiled at the instructor. “It’s feeling pretty twingy.”

The man nodded. “Rest and ice and you’ll be good in no time.”

“I do hope it’s better before tonight. I don’t want to miss the dinner cruise.”

Clint took that moment to sweep you up into his arms. “You’ll be fine as long as you stay off that ankle for the next little bit.”

You pecked him a kiss and giggled. “My big strong man.”

He smirked at you then headed inside off the terrace.

***

With your ankle wrapped in a tensor bandage and flats on your feet, you made your way to dinner on the dock in a bright blue sparkling gown that ended at your knees. It was tight and tied up around your neck, hiding the black swimsuit you wore beneath. A pair of coms were hidden in your purse, as well as a compact underwater camera.

While you’d “rested” Clint had been the concerned husband, wandering down to the dock to make sure you’d be alright getting on board with your twisted ankle and checking out the ship. When he’d returned, you’d searched for blueprints of the type of vessel, figuring out where you could disappear from and return too without being noticed, and sent off the plan to the others.

Steve wasn’t impressed with the risk you were taking, but you were running out of days and with the ship docked in the cliff, you needed to have a look around. He didn’t like it, but he agreed it had to be done.

Enough people had seen Clint carrying you through the resort and stopped to inquire about “Mrs. Martin” that when you’d appeared from your room one of the resort employees had been waiting with a golf cart to see you down to the ship.

You’d forced tears, thanked them profusely, and limped over with Clint hovering devotedly at your side. When you’d arrived at the dock where the other dinners were boarding, Clint swept you giggling back into his arms and up the gangplank where you were instantly shown to a table in a secluded, romantically lit portion of the dinning deck, set against the windows so you wouldn’t miss the view.

“They know how to make a girl feel special,” you winked at Clint over your glass of champagne.

“Good thing you’re such a convincing klutz,” he snickered leaning closer to brush his lips over your shoulder.

There weren’t chairs but a bench built for two with a high back that kept others from seeing or being seen, allowing you a semblance of privacy. When the waiter appeared, you recognized him from your first night at dinner and smiled when he beamed at you both.

“Friends! It’s good to see you made up.”

You chuckled softly and smiled at Clint. “Someone realized the error of his words and apologized.”

“Ah,” the man nodded. “Happy wife, happy life, my friend. Good for you.” He spoke at length about the dinner and what could be expected. There would be four courses, each with a break between to allow people to rise and walk around should they choose to, culminating in desert and a fireworks display over the ocean.

You oohed appropriately, even as Clint continued to occasionally nibble on your shoulder and neck and make you giggle. You were fools madly in love and barely able to keep your hands off each other, or so you appeared to the waiter by the time he left.

But when you turned to speak to Clint, you couldn’t for his mouth closed over yours, and you melted, falling into the beauty of the moonlit night as the ship rocked gently on the waves. The kiss went on and on, his body pressing yours back into the seat, hands roaming until a throat cleared and broke you apart.

“Mr. Martin. Perhaps save the dining to your dinner and devour your lovely wife later, eh?” the waiter grinned knowingly.

“She’s just such a temptation,” Clint chuckled.

You blushed and looked down at the salad before you, digging in as embarrassment flooded your face.

“Ah, as are all such beautiful women,” the waiter chuckled. “Enjoy your first course.”

You smacked Clint’s arm when he was gone. “The hell was that?”

“Setting the stage,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to tighten your thighs though you were so aroused you were sure your nipples would have shown through your dress if it wasn’t for the suit you had on beneath it. Instead, you watched as the ship made its way slowly along the coastline.

When the waiter returned to remove the plates, you casually asked where the washrooms were. He offered to show you, and as Clint stood and helped you, lifting you off your feet, you saw the moment the waiter decided against taking you to the public washrooms. Exactly as planned.

“There’s a handicap bath toward the stern of the ship if Mr. Martin doesn’t mind holding on to his lovely miss a little longer?”

“Lead the way,” Clint winked, his smirk wicked.

The waiter led him down an interior corridor of the large yacht to a door marked “accessible” and pushed it inward. “Miss.”

Clint nodded as he moved past and the light came on, revealing a handicapped bathroom and a large, porthole window. He set you near the handrail and made sure you were steady. “You alright there?”

“I’m good, babe. Long as the ship’s not rocking, I can manage.” You smiled as he stepped back into the hall and shut the door, the waiter grinning as he went. You could hear the quiet conversation between the two as you stripped down to your suit, tore the bandage from your ankle, stepped out of your shoes, and stuffed your hair into the swim cap you tugged from inside your suit.  

The first com went in your ear as Clint opened the door and you handed him the second, then strapped the camera to your wrist. “Check?” You gave the com a tap.

“Check. Three minutes. No more,” he warned you, pulling the door shut.

The porthole stuck, but you gave it a yank and finally had it swinging inward. A quick check assured you there was no one watching, and you dove out the window, scraping your hip when it proved tighter than you’d thought.

“Y/N?”

You tapped the com twice, indicating you could hear and were on the move. Streaking through the water, you made your way beneath the yacht and over to the cliff in seconds, thankful the dinner cruise remained close to land. You paused long enough to make sure there were no security measures between you and the cave opening before swimming inside.

Staying close to the wall, you made your way to where the lights reflected off the water’s surface. It was a narrow opening, barely wide enough for the submarine to fit with docks surrounding it. Men stood guard at the gangplank, but you swam beneath them, sticking to the shadows, coming up silently beneath the metal slats. Crates upon crates sat lined up along the walkway, more were stacked against the back of the facility, and you began quickly taking pictures. There would be a five-minute delay before the images relaid directly back to the others, allowing you to ditch the device if need be without losing the images.

“Y/N? Two minutes.”

“Need a closer look,” you whispered, treading water silently toward the back of the cave.

“No. Get your ass out of there.”

“All I can see is crates. We need to know what’s in them.”

He swore softly on his end but finally grunted. “Don’t get caught, for fuck sake.”

You almost chuckled. There was enough space between the rock face and the dock to sneak through if you were careful. Luckily, you were always careful. 

Lifting yourself out of the water, you crept toward a crate that hadn’t been closed yet, staying low and out of sight of the guards. When you peeked inside, it was full of packing straw you brushed out of the way, revealing the barrels of six rifles. You swiftly took more pictures of the crate and the inside of the facility before slinking toward the rail. From there you could see the call numbers on the side of the sub and snapped another couple of pictures.

When the door at the top of the stairs, the one that you and Clint had discovered from the other side, slid open, you scurried behind a pile of crates and swore softly.

“Y/N? Times up. Where the fuck are you?”

You tapped the comm once for trouble.

“Shit. Fuck. Son of a bitch.”

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“They want it shipped in two days.”

Peeking over the crates, you began taking pictures of the men speaking. One was a Colonel that Fury had been trying to tie to Hydra for a while. This would definitely do that. The other was a heavily scarred man you’d not seen before.

“Every crate. We’ve had too much scrutiny of this facility. It’s time to move on.”

You arched a brow. Guess it was time to bring the hammer down.

More people were coming through the door, getting ready to start loading the weapons into the sub, and you slipped off the platform back into the water where you dove down and swam along the base of the sub. From inside your suit, you drew one of Tony’s many trackers and stuck it to the tail of the ship. The magnet would hold like a barnacle and allow them to track the sub if they chose not to take it now. It may be better to let them lead Shield to a new facility where they could - potentially - gain better intel. You tapped your ear piece twice.

“Fuck sakes. Get your ass moving!” Clint hissed.

You shot out of the cave and headed for the ship. It was moving at a pretty decent clip by this point, but you caught up to swim alongside. There still wasn’t anyone watching the area where you’d come out, but now you had a different problem.

“I need your help to get back in.” Instantly his head popped out the window. You nodded to him, then dove deep. It was a leap of faith, and if either of you missed, it could suck royally when you smacked into the side of the ship.

Thankfully your luck was holding, for when you launched like a dolphin out of the water, Clint snatched your hands out of the air and dragged you inside. This time it was your belly that took the brunt of the window, but you only grunted softly.

“We’ve been gone too long,” Clint hissed as he jerked the cap from your hair.

“Sorry!” you hissed and shoved him to turn him around before stripping your wet swimsuit off. He shoved a handful of paper towels behind his back and you used them to dry as much of you as possible before yanking your dress back up around your neck. “Ankle.”

He was already crouching to rewrap the bandage as you balled your discarded swimsuit, camera, and cap up and threw them out the window.

“Thank the fates for waterproof makeup,” you murmured as you dragged more paper towels over your face, arms and neck.

Clint slipped your shoes on, then lurched to his feet to crack open the door. He hissed a soft swear and shut it quietly. “He’s on his way back.”

“Leave it unlocked and come here.” You grabbed his arm and dragged him toward you. “Shit the window!”

Clint slammed it shut as you hopped up on the sink. He lunged toward you, and you jerked his belt open and pants down, sending them to the floor around his ankles when you gave his boxers a shove.

“Hands. Hair. Go.” Heat slammed through you as he dragged your ass to the edge of the sink, thrust his hands into your hair and dropped his mouth to yours. He ravaged it, tongue pushing between your lips to dance and twist and twine around yours.

You dug your nails into his bare ass, well aware you were naked beneath your dress and your swiftly dampening center was right there, not quite against his bare cock but damn close. It all gave you a wicked thrill and you moaned. Loudly.

A tapping at the door preceded it cracking opening. “Mrs. Martin? Are you alright?”

You squeaked as if embarrassed. “Clive!” you hissed. “You said you locked the door.”

“I thought I had!” Clint muttered. He cleared his throat and glanced at the waiter smirking in the doorway. “Uh, we’ll be right out.”

“Very good. While I appreciate the sentiment, we do discourage such actions on the dinner voyage,” the waiter chuckled and shut the door.

“Christ,” Clint hissed and dropped his head to your shoulder. “That was fucking close.”

“Too close,” you sighed and tugged his boxers up over his ass. “I’ll get the water. You pull your pants up.”

He snorted a laugh and stepped away. You hopped down and quickly cleaned the water off the floor and wall. When you finished, you grabbed your purse and popped out your earpiece. Both went back in your bag; then Clint was swinging you up into his arms.

The waiter was waiting when the door open, and you blushed before hiding your face in Clint’s neck. Clint grumbled something about insatiable women and followed the chuckling waiter back to your table where you spent the rest of the voyage snuggled up with Clint, eating and drinking, and ended the night watching the fireworks.

***

Clint spent the night on the couch after you’d checked in with Steve and the others, explaining what you’d seen and heard and making sure the pictures had gone through fine. They agreed it was better to follow the submarine to the new location, but when you suggested leaving early, Nat had protested.

Leaving the resort early would look suspicious.

You’d frowned at that, but when Clint hadn’t fought her on it, you shrugged and went along with them. You were sure lots of people left their vacations early, but… whatever.

It was only one more day and it was New Years Eve. The mission was technically over so you could relax and just have fun. Last night though, sat beneath the stars talking about anything, and everything with Clint had brought up a whole bunch of feelings you weren’t sure what to do with.

Before he woke, you dressed and left the room, taking a walk down to the beach where you watched the sun rise over the ocean. Your dress whipped with the wind around your knees. The small swells crested over your feet and around your ankles. 

People often said it was a thin line between hate and love. It appeared they were right.  

You moved back up the beach and sat in the sand, thinking about the old year that had passed and the new one soon to start. How odd it was to come on this trip hating the one you were with so strongly, only for the emotion to flip on its head in four short days.

As the sun rose, you wondered if Clint felt the same.

***

“You’re sure quiet.”

You glanced at Clint. Wrapped in robes and little else, you were sitting cross-legged on a thick mat facing each other with your knees touching. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“And you were gone before breakfast.”

“I took a walk.” You shrugged and played with the tie on your robe.

He pouted a little. “It was weird. I missed you.”

A butterfly fluttered in your belly. “You did?”

“Yeah…” His eyes were so green when he looked at you like that, like there was something he needed to say but wasn't sure how to spit out.

“Welcome to Sensual Awakening!”

You jumped at the perky voice of the woman who’d instructed the yoga class. “Ah, crap.”

Clint snickered. You rolled your eyes.

“This class is for couples looking for a deeper connection. More intimacy.”

Now the curtains between couples made more sense, but you shot Clint a look full of concern. Did he really want to do this? The heated one you got back made your womb flutter.

“You’re going to learn how to touch your partner with gentle reverence. You’ll indicate your deepest desires and affection through the physical act of sensual touching.”

You swallowed thickly.

“Gentlemen. You’ll find a nicely warmed bottle of oil in the basket beside you. Take it out and pour a small amount into your palm. Rub the oil between your hands, then reach forward and gently begin working light circles over your lover’s neck.”

You’re entire body lit up with the look Clint gave you as his big hands became slick with oil when he rolled them together. They slipped inside the collars of your robe and began to stroke up the sides of your neck. He worked gentle circles into your flesh and had your lashes fluttering shut in bliss.

“Nice isn’t it, ladies?”

All you could do was whimper.

“Now men, you can slowly push the robe off her shoulders, sliding your warm, oiled hands over her flesh. She’s a precious object to you. Don’t you want her to feel cherished? A gentle squeeze to her shoulder muscles will help portray that.”

Clint’s thumbs pressed in along your collarbone and his fingers squeezed down. You wanted to cry it felt so good. It went on like that for a while. The men moved from neck and shoulders to hands and forearms before Perky Blonde called a switch.

You opened your eyes to find Clint staring at you with such a look of hunger it sent an echoing burst of desire sliding through you as you reached for the oil.

“Now, ladies, let’s straddle our gentlemen.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could voice a protest, Clint reached for your hips and drew you up on your knees. He dragged your forward and settled you in his lap like you belonged there and damned if you didn’t want to.

“Let’s work that oil between your hands and start the same way with gentle circles on his neck.”

Clint’s hands hadn’t moved from your ass, holding you tight against him. His eyes were intense, locked with yours, even as you began to work soothing circles over his skin. You stopped listening to Perky Blonde about that point, dragging oil slick hands over his shoulders, slowly pushing his robe out of the way until it parted to reveal the thick muscles of his chest. You dug your thumbs into the tense muscle and relished the soft moan singing from his throat. The oil left trails on his flesh, following the path marked by your fingers as you explored the plains and valleys, the veins and shadows.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his lips sliding over the curve of your shoulder as your hands drifted down his chest.

A shuddering breath escaped your lips. You wanted him with every fibre of your being and gave an involuntary roll of your hips. His head snapped up, eyes bright, the question in them easy to discern.

You framed his face with your hands and lowered your lips to his.

“Now, now you two. Wait till you get back to your room for that,” Perky giggled from a few feet away.

Clint threw her such a look you were surprised she didn’t burst into flames. “You’re right.” With surprising strength, he rocked up on his knees and jumped to his feet before striding from the room with you still wrapped around his waist. “We should take this back to our suite.”

“Oh, but the class isn’t finished!” Perky called.

“Intimacy acquired,” you snickered over Clint’s head. “We’re quick learners.”

***

Clint’s calloused fingers skimmed over your bare flesh, causing you to crack open an eye and smile at him. “You’re insatiable.”

“You’re adorable, sexy, and irresistible. It’s not my fault.”

He rolled you to your back and took your breast in his mouth. “Clint.” He hummed as you carded your fingers through his hair.

You’d barely made it back to your room before robes were falling away and underwear vanished as the two of you fell onto the bed and into each other. It was like he knew you, body and soul, touching and taming all the places few if any lovers before him had found.

When he’d rolled you to your belly and slicked his tongue up the entire length of your spine, you’d come apart shaking, crying, sobbing, so aroused it was unbelievable. He made your body sing, your skin tingle, and your heart overflow.

And he was doing it again. His touch was tender but firm, his skilled fingers flowing over your ribs like bow strings or piano keys. They created music in your moans and sighs as he arched you from the bed with gentle presses of keys only he could find.

His lips pulled on your nipple as he drew away, placing kisses on your already marked chest as he made his way to your throat and the place that seemed made for his teeth when he sank them into the cords of your throat and made you shake with need.

You clawed at his back, already scratch up and tender, but unable to fight the desire to drag him closer when his mouth was doing such incredible things to your throat. The fingers playing your ribs moved down, floated over your flesh and stroked the damp curls between your thighs. He’d made such noises when he was down there the first time. Like a man faced with heaven, praising the glory that was your wet lips and well groomed bush.

It appeared even during sex the man couldn’t stop with the jokes, but he’d made up for it when he’d put his tongue to work on your wet core. Strong and focused, he’d held you down and coaxed the first of two incredible orgasms from you.

This time, though, he just gently parted your folds and ran his index finger around your clit, making you whimper and moan. It was sensitive still, hard and easily stimulated, taking little to warm your belly and drive fire through your loins when he made fireworks burst through your body.

“Clint,” you whimpered even as you arched and shook beneath his gentle petting.

“That sounds so good when you come,” he murmured, kissing you as he shifted over and spread your knees apart. The thick wedge of his cock’s head speared through wet, flexing walls. “You feel so good. So perfect. Fuck, Y/N.”

You wrapped yourself around him, finding the way he held you so tight to be endearing. You loved the weight and feel of him as he moved with you, over you, inside you. A sob broke your voice as you cried out, overwhelmed in sensations.

His mouth formed words against your ear, but you couldn’t hear them over the pounding of your blood and the fire burning your veins. He rocked up and took your mouth, hips driving you further into the mattress.

The coil in your belly grew tight, and you screamed when it snapped, sending you spiraling through space to return to Earth in time to hear him growl your name and feel the hot swell of his release when he came undone.

You held him to you as he collapsed, happy for the weight as your hearts slowed together. You gave a content sigh and closed your eyes.

***

When you woke, it was to the gentle stroking of your bare thigh. “Insatiable.”

Clint chuckled and kissed you softly. “Still your fault. But I’m not waking you for that. It’s New Years Eve. Come dance with me?”

You looked toward the window and realized how late it was. It was dark out, but music played from the club down by the beach. You cast an appreciative glance his way, finding the polo shirt and dark pants suited him and walked naked to your closet where you drew a sparkling silver gown from within.

Short and strapless, you pulled it up your legs, slipped on a pair of short heels, and went to do your makeup.

“I swear if you leave this room without underwear, I may be required to fuck you against a palm tree.”

You threw a smile over your shoulder. “I may just let you.”

He groaned and fell over backward on the bed making you laugh.

In the end you slid a sleek black thong up your legs, though Clint had grumbled that was nearly as bad. He led you down and out of the resort where a midnight buffet was just being served at the edge of the terraced balcony.

As you’d spent the day naked and in bed together, your stomach protested the lack of nourishment with a loud growl, causing Clint to laugh and lead you toward it. Plates were quickly filled and just as quickly devoured before he led you down onto the dance floor surrounded in fairy lights with floating paper lanterns strung above.

“Happy New Year, Mrs. Martin,” he smirked as he drew you close and began to sway.

“Happy New Year to you, Clive,” you giggled.

“Wasn’t such a bad trip after all, huh?”

You shook your head. “I like how it ended.”

“Me too,” he murmured and dipped his head to kiss you as fireworks exploded overhead.

***

The next morning you walked into the warehouse the team had been using for surveillance hand in hand. An agent for Shield posing as a taxi driver had picked you up after checking out of the resort and brought you to join the others.

As soon as Natasha and Bucky looked up, they grinned broadly at each other.

“I knew it!” Natasha laughed. “I knew you two would figure out you were perfect for each other if we stuck you on a mission together.”

You arched a brow at her. “You set this up? Did Wilson even find scanners or did you make that up?”

“Fraid we made that up,” Bucky snickered.

“If this hadn’t worked out so well, I’d be inclined to shoot,” you muttered, only for Clint to drag you around into his arms.

“I think we can give them a pass this once.”

You lightly stroked his face. “I guess so.”

He nipped his teeth into your lip. “It’s a great start to a New Year.”

“That it is,” you chuckled and kissed him firmly, causing both Bucky and Nat to groan.

“Ugh, we didn’t think this through,” Bucky grumbled. “Now they’re all kissy face.”

You flipped Bucky the bird but didn’t stop kissing Clint, deciding it was going to be one hell of an awesome New Year.

-The End-


End file.
